Any Given Sundae
by microgirl
Summary: Gil, its ice cream, not science...GSR


_Any Given Sundae_

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone in regards to CSI; the show and its characters belong to a bunch of people who aren't me. I am merely borrowing the characters for my own amusement. Dance puppets, dance._

_A/N: First off, waffles and Life Savers to everyone who read and reviewed "Quiet Nights" and "Triboluminescence." Thank you all so much for the kind words! I hope you guys like this one too :)_

_As always, my biggest thanks to EllipsesBandit. I am forever grateful for your time and energy in beta-ing my work._

_Since this fic does contain ice cream and GSR fluff, the sugar content is rather high and may cause tooth decay. By reading this out loud or to yourself, you have waived any legal responsibility on Microgirl's part in perpetuity throughout the universe._

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"Gil, I give up."

"You never give up."

"There's a first time for everything. Let me know when the backyard is done." With that Sara groaned as she climbed out of lawn chair; her sore muscles protested against the action.

Grissom reached out from where he sat, and grabbed her arm before she could get to the door. "Our backyard will be done as soon as _we_ get the last of the rock back here. There isn't that much left out front. I think it'll take another hour or so." Hearing 'our backyard' still sounded peculiar even though they had been living together for three months, but a nice kind of peculiar. She gave him her other hand, and helped him to his feet. "Besides, you'll get a nice reward for not quitting."

"Yeah, what did you have in mind?"

"You can take a hot bath and I'll order pizza from Anthony's. And afterward I'll give you a shoulder rub."

"You're going to have to do better than that," she told him lightheartedly.

He wrapped his arms around her. "Bath, pizza, shoulder rub…" For a moment he quirked his eyebrow, signaling he was in thought, "…and an ice cream sundae."

She kissed his chin. "Deal."

* * *

"Thank you, baby. That was perfect," she said as he gave her shoulders a final squeeze. Four slices of pizza and the fifteen minute shoulder massage somewhat eased the pain of three hours of yard work. Still, there was one thing missing… 

Grissom didn't say anything, but softly rubbed his beard against the nape of her neck. As always the gesture made her heart flutter with a happiness she hadn't felt in years. Before getting completely distracted, she lightly cleared her throat.

"What?" He rested his cheek next to her cheek.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Letting out a breath through his nose, he remained quiet for a moment. He answered with a simple no.

"The ice cream sundaes?" She prompted.

"That was part of the deal, wasn't it?" She nodded cheerfully, and he sighed again. "I'll need your assistance then." He gently pushed her forward.

Looking at him with an incredulous expression, she said, "That wasn't part of the deal."

"'I am altering the deal. Pray that I don't alter it any further.'"

She couldn't hold back the wide grin as she gave him a rather long, thorough kiss. Early on in their relationship, Sara was pleased to discover Grissom's DVD collection wasn't limited to documentaries from the Discovery Channel.

Since his cooking skills rivaled those of a five star restaurant chef, Grissom didn't actually need help; she knew he just enjoyed having company.

She sat on the counter perpendicular to where he had pulled out the ice cream scooper and a set of measuring spoons. After removing the vanilla ice cream, he also took out two metal pub-style cups from the freezer. Until he placed a couple of perfectly shaped scoops of ice cream in the cups, she had thought he would use bowl like most people. _That's different_, she thought, but maybe it was something he'd read in a cooking magazine.

After he put a jar of fudge in the microwave, he measured even tablespoons of crushed roasted almonds. He made sure to evenly coat the ice cream. Sara smirked at his behavior; even with something as simple and fun as a sundae, Gil Grissom was still a true scientist.

Next was the whipped cream, which he carefully sprayed on top of the almonds. But his playful side came through when he surprised her by dobbing her nose with the white dessert topping.

Using the measuring spoons again, he drizzled on the hot fudge. It was all she could do from shaking her head in amusement and puzzlement. Never had she known anyone to take an ice cream sundae so seriously.

Finally he nodded to himself, and handed her a cup with a spoon. Inspecting the creation, she smiled and told him, "Great job, but you forgot the cherry."

"You don't add a cherry."

She stared at him for a full ten seconds. "No cherry?"

"Every bite of the sundae is supposed to have equal amounts of vanilla ice cream, almonds, whipped cream, and fudge." He fed her a spoonful from his cup. "You can't very well divide a cherry into that many bites."

A small huff escaped her lips. "Gil, its ice cream, not science. No one is going to care if every bite has equal parts of everything." She hopped off the counter. "Besides, this sundae looks a little bland. It needs a few more things."

She removed a bottle and another jar from the refrigerator, and two small plastic containers from one of the cabinets. One by one, Sara began to add her own ingredients. She squeezed on a liberal amount of caramel syrup, followed by pinches of rainbow sprinkles and miniature chocolate chips; none of the additional sweets evenly covered the ice cream. And of course she topped her sundae with a maraschino cherry.

She proudly presented him with her amended treat. Grissom's eyes widened in horror at what she had done to his picture quality sundae; the same expression he reserved to those who admitted to selling back their books in college or others who said the mating ritual of the carpenter beetle was boring.

Noting his obvious distaste, she shook her head slightly. "Oh give me a break. You haven't even tried it." She kindly shoved some ice cream into his mouth.

Grissom's jaw tightened when he swallowed with a great deal of reluctance. He closed his eyes as if what he ate was a painful experience. "There was too much caramel, not enough sprinkles, and I almost choked on the amount of chocolate chips."

"Shut up."

He surprised her once again when he used his spoon to taste the sundae again. "This time the chocolate overpowers the caramel, and the sprinkles and chocolate chips are almost non-existent."

Stepping closer so they stood nose to nose, he added, "I think there is reason why I do most of the cooking."

She snorted, and playfully pushed him away. He gave her one of his rarely seen, broad smiles as he put his sundae on the counter, took the one from her hand, and proceeded to stretch out on the couch.

Sara stood where he left her with her mouth partially open, baffled by his actions. She looked into the living room, finding him still eating her sundae. A warm feeling of bliss coursed through her veins. She walked into the living room, settled her back against his wide chest, and enjoyed his perfectly bland ice cream sundae.

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The End


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